Thursday, 10 May 2012

Red Ink

I have been putting off grading my papers for a while now. Now the deadline is upon my head and I have to get this out of the way. Always, when I open out the packets, I find that I have misplaced the red pen. Else the red pens are all dry. I have to make do. The best thing I find, as an alternative, is to use a blue and a black pen. Kids that write in blue get the black, and vice versa. This year, I did okay though. Half way through the exercise, I still have my sanity, and my red pen (new one), handy.

The office is super warm. I sometimes carry the stuff home in a big bag, spread out on my bed, switch on the airconditioning, and aggressively finish the job. I do mean the grading. This time, I have avoided this. Choosing, instead, to embrace further my masochism. The sweat is mostly localised in the base of the palm, and my moustache area (not that I have a moustache. Ugh. One of my mum's aunts does, a luxurious caterpillar). I think I can survive it.

The mind is in one of its whirls. I am neither happy nor sad. I am content, for the most part, except when I am not, and I pity myself for various things. And people that I miss constantly. Some of which at least it ought to be possible to fix, but I am reluctant to make the effort. I embrace the sadness then, and tell myself strictly that I must learn to let go of things, and people, and to find that inner peace. Considering how old I am and all that.

I was browsing last week through my home computer. I was searching for a photograph of my maternal grandfather. Who passed away in 2003, and is very badly missed. We wanted a photograph of him (and my dad, and my husband's grandparents), to sit on our windowsill as we did the housewarming. I saw his photo, scowling, and took it to the printer. As I flipped through the folder though I glimpsed that set of photos of my cousin, my brother.

I have not spoken about him ever I think. Its just too sad. It has been sad like that for years now. And in a way that has not changed much since he passed away two years ago. I felt a familiar lurch in my stomach and my eyes welled up with tears. Him, I cannot avoid missing. He is gone, completely. I recall all our fun times together, and I can only sit and wallow, nothing else to be done. His son writes poetry, they say. I hope to read it someday.

I have had a really jam-packed couple of months. Productive months even. My procrastination tendency is somewhat at bay, and that part of my changed personality, I am enjoying. The needy part that I am trying to work on now, is going well, on the surface. But still the sadness. I swore I would avoid it, really find constructive ways of channeling all that energy I spend in being lonely, and sad, and feeling unloved. Of course its not meant to be easy. For now, my days go by quickly, with some species of routine, so I avoid thinking too much.

Maybe at the end of the summer, will be time for the real red ink. The self-evaluation. This post should help in that. Because one thing I wanted to do was write more (not necessarily here, but its a beginning). Even if it be rambly ill-structured thoughts. I should not putz around with blue and black pens then, really go for the red ink. Wonder if I have the mental fortitude to handle my own criticisms! Only one way to find out, eh? Adios.

2 comments:

channelizing your thoughts and energy elsewhere should do the trick...they say..yeah right..am still finding what will it take for me to forget my dad who died 3 years ago...died of lung cancer... am still finding what will it to take to not be angry cos he left...

well i guess i will oneday...i think as time goes by you will realise that unknowingly you have channelized the energy and are at a better place...